There are some things about your parents that you just DON'T want to know.

Oh hell yes - a few years ago, when I was still in high school (okay, so about a decade ago...) my Dad was working delivering natural gas to remote locations, which involved driving a tanker full of gas to houses without natural gas pipelines and then pumping the gas into the bottles at the houses.

The people who owned the bottles were *supposed* to get their bottles checked by their fire brigades every 12 months and have their tags punched (a metal tag on the neck of the bottle) but some people were cheap/idiots and instead of getting the bottles you know, checked to ensure they were safe for continued use, they would just punch the holes themselves and think 'eh, close enough'.

Because they were totally qualified to tell that a gas bottle was safe for continued use. But I digress.

So! Dad hooked up the hose and then picked up the remote, and performed the usual check, which is a single tap to check the pressure is correct and KABLAM! the seal on the top of the gas bottle explodes, and Dad is blasted from navel-to-knee by liquid petroleum gas - about the same temperature as liquid nitrogen.

Thankfully, the homeowners were *at home* and Dad was able to get himself into a tepid shower while they called the ambulance.

The gross out part? Dad *insisted* on showing EVERYONE all of his burns and blisters as they healed.

From navel to knee.

Did I mention that the hospital he stayed in for a week was on my way home from school, and more than once I'd have a friend with me when I visited him?

Dad! Flashing my friends is NOT COOL! (he thought it was hilarious, and he did have a kind of adult diaper-thing on so they didn't see anything untoward) but as the blisters popped and some of the burns got infected... ugh. Green pus, angry red nasties... third degree burns on fragile skin. Miraculously, he doesn't have many scars from that incident.

And yes - the people who had punched their own safety-check card copped a rather large fine (think five figures) and are no longer eligible for natural gas deliveries from any supplier in the state.

My Dad was staying with me when he had his hip replacement. They recommended having a shower the night before the surgery so he set out to do that. And fell in my bathtub. I had to help him up. Tramatized, I was.

A nurse came in to change his dressing but she didn't do a very good job and I had to redo it. I got him to put a pair of underwear on his good side so he could hold it up and over the salient bits and I managed to change the dressing without getting an eyeful.

Logged

After cleaning out my Dad's house, I have this advice: If you haven't used it in a year, throw it out!!!!.

I just opened the front door in an attempt to go outside. I was greeted with half a snake and a dog sitting there looking so proud of himself. He had this grin on his face as if to say "See, I'm protecting you from the evil serpents and left half of one here to document my devotion to keeping my family safe."

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Some people lift weights. I lift measures. It's a far more esoteric workout. - (Quoted from a personal friend)

When my mom had surgery her incision wasn't healing right so it had to be opened, cleaned, and the packed so it would heal from the outside in. She was find doing it herself but required a mirror (It was on her belly) I held the mirror once. Nearly feinted. Not because of grossness but due to empathy for my own Mom. She still teases me about it. I have had boils that I would actually put a finger in and show it off, pop and pick at them and pimples, help others with such things but something as simple as packing and bandaging a clean wound on my own Mom got to me.

See nasty stuff on a stranger and I am fine (Bed wound all the way to the tail bone big enough for my head) But people I know is what really gets me.

How have I never seen this thread before?!?!? I'm so sorry that my lunch break is over and I can't keep reading. I'm only on page 24, but a story there reminded me of another one.

On my summer breaks during my undergrad years, I came back to my hometown and worked as a maintenance/custodial worker in one of the dorms at a local university. The university hosted many summer programs for high school students and employed some college students as summer counselors for said programs.

One day, my supervisor called us off of our break 10 minutes early and said there was an emergency clean up that needed to be done on the main staircase. She went on to explain that one of the counselors had been injured and we had to clean up the main staircase between the 2nd and 3rd floors. Now, this was an OLD dorm. The railings were heavy wood bannisters atop metalwork that had scrolls and flourishes galore. Really beautiful, but lots of places to catch your clothes, etc.

The counselor wore several rings on each hand, and as she was running down the steps, one of her rings caught on a piece of the metalwork. I only witnessed the aftermath, so I don't know exactly how she managed to do so much damage, but not only did this break her finger, but it also tore it up very badly. We found out later that it was so badly mangled that the finger had to be amputated.

So, our custodial staff had to clean up not only the blood (and it had splashed surprisingly far across the staircase, on the carpet, and on the wall), but also the puke from the two high school students who saw it happen.

When my mom had surgery her incision wasn't healing right so it had to be opened, cleaned, and the packed so it would heal from the outside in. She was find doing it herself but required a mirror (It was on her belly) I held the mirror once. Nearly feinted. Not because of grossness but due to empathy for my own Mom. She still teases me about it. I have had boils that I would actually put a finger in and show it off, pop and pick at them and pimples, help others with such things but something as simple as packing and bandaging a clean wound on my own Mom got to me.

See nasty stuff on a stranger and I am fine (Bed wound all the way to the tail bone big enough for my head) But people I know is what really gets me.

I just had a flash back to one of MIL's surgeries!

MIL had had a tummy tuck that went bad and resulted in years of complications and follow up surgeries to repair the damage.After one such surgery, the doctors had to leave the wound open and let it heal that way.So MIL had a golf-ball sized hole in her abdomen for several weeks.

She showed that hole to *everybody*!Friends over? Whip up her shirt and peel back the dressing.Over at our house? Make a point of needing a dressing change - come and watch!

At one point, she asked *my* mom to change her dressing because mom was a nurse.My mom didn't even know MIL that well at this point and was a little nonplussed to be asked to change a visitor's dressing - related by marriage or otherwise.

(When at home, MIL did her dressing herself or got FIL to help, so it's not like she needed my mom's assistance - she just wanted the attention.)

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"I think her scattergun was only loaded with commas and full-stops, although some of them cuddled together for warmth and produced little baby colons and semi-colons." ~ Margo

How have I never seen this thread before?!?!? I'm so sorry that my lunch break is over and I can't keep reading. I'm only on page 24, but a story there reminded me of another one.

On my summer breaks during my undergrad years, I came back to my hometown and worked as a maintenance/custodial worker in one of the dorms at a local university. The university hosted many summer programs for high school students and employed some college students as summer counselors for said programs.

One day, my supervisor called us off of our break 10 minutes early and said there was an emergency clean up that needed to be done on the main staircase. She went on to explain that one of the counselors had been injured and we had to clean up the main staircase between the 2nd and 3rd floors. Now, this was an OLD dorm. The railings were heavy wood bannisters atop metalwork that had scrolls and flourishes galore. Really beautiful, but lots of places to catch your clothes, etc.

The counselor wore several rings on each hand, and as she was running down the steps, one of her rings caught on a piece of the metalwork. I only witnessed the aftermath, so I don't know exactly how she managed to do so much damage, but not only did this break her finger, but it also tore it up very badly. We found out later that it was so badly mangled that the finger had to be amputated.

So, our custodial staff had to clean up not only the blood (and it had splashed surprisingly far across the staircase, on the carpet, and on the wall), but also the puke from the two high school students who saw it happen.

I might have told this story before (sorry!) but my dad worked in an auto shop. One day, I got home from school to find my dad's buddy Joe's lunchbox on our kitchen counter. Dad said that Joe had gotten his wedding ring caught on something and was separated from his finger.

I wouldn't go near it because my dad said to be careful, as it had Joe's ring in it. I somehow managed to convince myself if the ring was there, so was the finger. My mom noticed me giving it a wide berth and then explained that the finger had been taken to the hospital with Joe in hopes it could be reattached. It was not in the lunchbox. I was such a dork, LOL.

I had a pretty gross nightmare last night that had to do with vomit. It's something that could actually happen, so telling myself "It was just a dream" doesn't help much. I dreamed that my uncle visited with his kids, both toddlers, and the older one (and possibly the younger one, but the details are fuzzy at this point) didn't recognize the signs of nausea and ended up throwing up all over the carpet. I tried to retreat to my room, but it was a dream, so I was sort of walking without going anywhere and I could even smell it. Oh yeah, and the dog came along and tried to eat it. I'm an emetophobe. I don't do vomit. At all. EVER. Just my own, and that's only because I have no choice. And the pets, I can handle that, even though it makes me queasy.

Anyway, in the dream my uncle packed up the kids to take them home, refusing both to help clean up the mess and to pay for the carpet to be cleaned. There was a huge blow-up because we were offended that he wouldn't take responsibility for the mess, and they were offended that we would ask him to clean up his child's mess when it took place in our house.

I told my dad about the dream, and he said, "That's actually a very real possibility." And it is. Please, please, whatever forces of the universe happen to be listening, don't let this dream come true!

I just opened the front door in an attempt to go outside. I was greeted with half a snake and a dog sitting there looking so proud of himself. He had this grin on his face as if to say "See, I'm protecting you from the evil serpents and left half of one here to document my devotion to keeping my family safe."

With me that would earn the dog lots of loving and treats for life! I hate snakes!

I just opened the front door in an attempt to go outside. I was greeted with half a snake and a dog sitting there looking so proud of himself. He had this grin on his face as if to say "See, I'm protecting you from the evil serpents and left half of one here to document my devotion to keeping my family safe."

With me that would earn the dog lots of loving and treats for life! I hate snakes!

me too! Good doggie! Although I would still be freaked out enough to think it might not be quite dead, even with half of it missing.

I think my half-grown kitten just figured out the whole "hunting" thing, only, of course, he's not actually hungry, so he just leaves his kills all over the floor for me to find. He's not even presenting them to me - they're just in the floor, basically forgotten toys.